I had an amazing week spending time with my mom and yet it was bitter sweet. I treasure the special talks and memories, but have an aching pain as I watch her fighting this lung cancer beast. Sometimes I feel so helpless. Those why questions come pouring out to God and He comforts me with this poem.
Strange gift indeed! – a thorn to prick -
To pierce into the very quick;
To cause perpetual sense of pain;
Strange gift! And yet, twas given for gain.
Unwelcome – yet it came to stay;
Nor could it e’en be prayed away.
It came to fill its God-planned place –
A life-enriching means of grace.
And he who bore it, day by day,
Found Christ his power, his strength, his stay;
In weakness gloried, since there by
The power of Christ might on him lie.
On much-tired saint, with fainting heart,
The thorn with its perpetual smart,
With all its wearing ceaseless pain
Can be thy means of priceless gain.
God’s grace-thorns- ah what forms they take!
What piercing, smarting pain they make!
And yet, each one in love is sent,
And always just for blessing meant.
And so, what e’er thy thorn may be,
From God accept it willingly;
But reckon Christ – His life – the power
To keep, in thy most trying hour.
And save – thy life will richer grow;
He grace sufficient will bestow:
And in Heav’ns morn thy joy twill be
That, by His thorn, He strengthened thee.
J. Danson Smith
Posts
